The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Naples Riviera by Herbert M. Vaughan This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license Title: The Naples Riviera Author: Herbert M. Vaughan Release Date: December 9, 2009 [Ebook 30634] Language: English ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NAPLES RIVIERA*** CHARCOAL CARRIERS, AMALFI THE NAPLES RIVIERA BY HERBERT M. VAUGHAN, B.A. (OXON.) AUTHOR OF “THE LAST OF THE ROYAL STUARTS” vi The Naples Riviera WITH TWENTY-FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BY MAURICE GREIFFENHAGEN METHUEN & CO 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. LONDON First Published in 1907 TO G. L. L. IN MEMORY OF MANY PLEASANT DAYS IN THE SUNNY SOUTH THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR [vii] CONTENTS CHAPTER I PAGE INTRODUCTORY 1 CHAPTER II THE VESUVIAN SHORE AND MONTE SANT’ ANGELO 8 CHAPTER III LA CITTÀ MORTA 38 CHAPTER IV VESUVIUS 66 CHAPTER V THE CORNICHE ROAD 100 CHAPTER VI AMALFI AND THE FESTIVAL OF ST ANDREW 126 CHAPTER VII RAVELLO AND THE RUFOLI 152 CHAPTER VIII SALERNO 172 CHAPTER IX PAESTUM AND THE GLORY THAT WAS GREECE 198 CHAPTER X SORRENTO AND ITS POET 221 CHAPTER XI CAPRI AND TIBERIUS THE TYRANT 249 CHAPTER XII ISCHIA AND THE LADY OF THE ROCK 275 CHAPTER XIII PUTEOLI AND THE GRANDEUR THAT WAS ROME 295 x The Naples Riviera ———— INDEX 321 [ix] LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE CHARCOAL CARRIERS,AMALFI Frontispiece ACAPRIOTE FISHERMAN’S WIFE 16 ROAD NEAR CASTELLAMARE 30 MONTE FAITO,CASTELLAMARE 37 THE FORUM,POMPEII 46 LA CASA DEI VETTII,POMPEII 58 VESUVIUS AND THE BAY OF NAPLES 80 POZZANO 101 EVENING AT AMALFI 124 AMALFI 132 IN THE VALLEY OF THE MILLS,AMALFI 140 AMALFI:PIAZZA AND DUOMO 148 RAVELLO:IL DUOMO 156 ASTREET IN RAVELLO 163 MINORI AT SUNSET 170 ON THE ROAD TO RAVELLO 186 THE TEMPLE OF NEPTUNE,PAESTUM 204 AFTERNOON,SORRENTO 230 FARAGLIONI ROCKS,CAPRI 249 CAPRI FROM THE VILLA JOVIS 254 IN THE BLUE GROTTO,CAPRI 262 AGATEWAY,CAPRI 274 ON THE PICCOLA MARINA,CAPRI 288 ISCHIA FROM CASTELLAMARE (SUNSET) 294 ON THE BEACH 306 [xi] BIBLIOGRAPHY A small selection out of the books I have consulted during the preparation of this work is given below:— E. GIBBON: Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. DEAN MERIVALE: The Romans under the Empire. Pliny’s Letters: (Church’s and Brodribb’s Translation, London, 1897). J. PHILLIPS: Vesuvius (Oxford, 1869). C. RAMAGE: Nooks and Byways of Italy. C. LENORMANT: À Travers la Lucanie et l’Apulie. W. J. A. STAMER: Dolce Napoli (London, 1878). E. NEVILLE ROLFE: Naples in 1888. CONSTANCE GIGLIOLI: Naples in 1799. C. L. SISMONDI: Histoire des Républiques Italiennes. L. ALBERTI: Descrizione di tutta l’ Italia (Venetia, 1596). C. MILLS: The Travels of Theodore Ducas (London, 1822). Les Délices d’Italie (Paris, 1707). Nuova Guida de’ Forastieri in Napoli, etc. (1751). COUNT STOLBERG: Travels through Italy and Sicily in 1756. A. H. NORWAY: Naples, Past and Present (London, 1904). [xii] E. BUSK: Folk-Songs of Italy. J. A. SYMONDS: Sketches and Studies in Italy. CATHERINE PHILLIMORE: Studies in Italian Literature (London, 1891). T. A. TROLLOPE: A Decade of Italian Women (London, 1859). G. BOCCACCIO: Il Decamerone. A. MAU: Pompeii: its Life and Art (New York, 1899). BIBLIOGRAPHY xiii J. FERGUSSON: Handbook of Architecture (London, 1859). FRANZ VON REBER: History of Ancient and Mediæval Art (New York, 1882). E. JAMESON: Sacred and Legendary Art (London, 1879). J. ELWORTHY: History of the Evil Eye (London, 1888). N. VALLETTA: Cicalata sul Fascino detto Jettatura (Napoli, 1819). A. CANALE: Storia dell’ Isola di Capri. G. AMALFI: Tradizioni ed Vsi nella Penisola Sorrentina. [1] THE NAPLES RIVIERA CHAPTER I INTRODUCTORY “In otia natam Parthenopen.” 2 The Naples Riviera That the city of Naples can prove very delightful, very amusing, and very instructive for a week or ten days no one will attempt to dispute. There are long mornings to be spent in inspecting the churches scattered throughout the narrow streets of the old town,—harlequins in coloured marble and painted stucco though they be, they are yet treasure-houses containing some of the most precious monuments of Gothic and Renaissance art that all Italy can display. There are afternoon hours that can be passed pleasantly amidst the endless halls and galleries of the great Museo Nazionale, where the antiquities of Pompeii and Herculaneum may be studied in advance, for the wise traveller will not rush headlong into the sacred precincts of the buried cities on the Vesuvian shore, before he has first made himself thoroughly acquainted with the wonderful collections preserved in the Museum. Then comes the evening drive along the gentle winding ascent towards Posilipo with its glorious views over [2] bay and mountains, all tinged with the deep rose and violet of a Neapolitan sunset; or the stroll along the fashionable sea front, named after the luckless Caracciolo the modern hero of Naples, where in endless succession the carriages pass backwards and forwards within the limited space between the sea and the greenery of the Villa Reale. Or it may be that our more active feet may entice us to mount the winding flights of stone steps leading to the heights of Sant’ Elmo, where from the windows of the monastery of San Martino there is spread out before us an entrancing view that has but two possible rivals for extent and interest in all Italy:—the panorama of the Eternal City from the hill of San Pietro in Montorio, and that of Florence with the valley of the Arno from the lofty terrace of San Miniato. We can while away many hours leisurely in wandering on the bustling Chiaja or Toledo with their shops and their amusing scenes of city life, or in the poorer quarters around the Mercato, where the inhabitants ply their daily avocations in the open air, and eat, play, quarrel, flirt, fight or gossip—do everything in short save go to CHAPTER I 3 bed—quite unconcernedly before the critical and non-admiring eyes of casual strangers. Pleasant it is to hunt for old prints, books and other treasures amongst the dark unwholesome dens that lie in the shadow of the gorgeous church of Santa Chiara or in the musty-smelling shops of the curiosity dealers in the Strada Costantinopoli, picking up here a volume of some cinque-cento classic and there a piece of old china that may or may not have had its birth in the famous factory of Capodimonte. All this studying of historic sculpture in the churches and of antiquities in the Museum, this observing the daily life of the populace, and [3] bargain-hunting in the Strada de’ Tribunali, are agreeable enough for a while, but of necessity there comes a time when the mind grows weary of yelling people and of jostling crowds, of stuffy churches and of the chilly halls of the Museum, of steep dirty streets and of glaring boulevards, so that we begin to sigh for fresh air and a change of scene. Nor is there any means of escape within the precincts of the city itself from the eternal cracking of whips, from the insulting compliments (or complimentary insults) of the incorrigible cabmen, from the continuous babel of unmusical voices, and from the reiterated strains of “Santa Lucia” or “Margari” howled from raucous throats or strummed from rickety street-organs. Oh for peace, and rest, and a whiff of pure country air! For there are no walks in or around the City of the Siren, where there is nowhere to stroll save the narrow strip of the much-vaunted Villa (which is either damp or dusty according to weather) or the fatiguing ascent amidst walled gardens and newly built houses to the heights of the Vomero, which are covered with a raw suburb. Moreover our pristine delight in the place is beginning to flag, as we gradually realise that the city, like the majority of great modern towns, is being practically rebuilt to the annihilation of its old-world features, which used to give to Naples its peculiar charm and its marked individuality amongst large sea-ports. Long ago has disappeared Santa Brigida, that picturesque high-coloured slum, 4 The Naples Riviera on whose site stands the garish domed gallery of which the Neapolitans are so proud; gone in these latter days is classic [4] Santa Lucia with its water-gate and its fountain, its vendors of medicated water and frutti di mare, those toothsome shell fish of the unsavoury beach; vanished for ever is many a landmark of old Naples, and new buildings, streets and squares, blank, dreary, pretentious and staring, have arisen in their places. This thorough sventramento di Napoli, as the citizens graphically term this drastic reconstruction of the old capital of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, is no doubt beneficial, not to say necessary, and we make no protest against these wholesale changes, which have certainly tended to destroy utterly its ancient character and appearance. But all seems commonplace, new, smart, and unpoetic, and we quickly grow weary of Naples now that it has been turned into a Liverpool of the South without the local colour and the peculiar attributes of which author and artist have so often raved. The life of the people, picturesque enough in its old setting, now appears mean and squalid; the toilers in the streets look jaded, oppressed and discontented; we search in vain for the spontaneous gaiety of which we have heard so much.